232. Song—The Day Returns

 THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
 The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d,
 Ne’er summer-sun was half sae sweet.

Than a’ the pride that loads the tide,
 And crosses o’er the sultry line;
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
 Heav’n gave me more—it made thee mine!


While day and night can bring delight,
 Or Nature aught of pleasure give;
While joys above my mind can move,
 For thee, and thee alone, I live.

When that grim foe of life below
 Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
 It breaks my bliss—it breaks my heart!

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